


nobody does it like you do

by newseptembers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Begging, Bratty Rey, Consensual Name Calling, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dominant Ben Solo, Endearment kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Spanking, Submissive Rey (Star Wars), devoted reylo vibes, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newseptembers/pseuds/newseptembers
Summary: It’s—not a joke, exactly, but it’s not something serious either. It’s a tease, something Rey tries out when she feels especially daring.She’s notactuallyinto it.Right?— When Ben leaves town for a work trip, their late night conversations lead to Rey realising something about herself—shereallywants to call her boyfriend Daddy.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 112
Kudos: 532





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is super different to anything i've ever posted lmao i hope you enjoy!! tags will be updated for chapter two but please let me know if i've missed anything important.
> 
> literally endless thanks go to [rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintillant/pseuds/scintillant) for the beta/talking me off the ledge a hundred times! this fic would not have been possible without her.
> 
> title is from daddy issues by the neighbourhood because i am nothing if not predictable.

It’s—not a joke, exactly, but it’s not something serious either. It’s a tease, something Rey tries out when she feels especially daring. 

And it’s not like it comes out of nowhere: Ben’s older; he wears glasses when he reads; he complains under his breath about the kids who loiter in the stairwell of their apartment building, stubbing out their cigarettes on the concrete floor. 

So she tries it—not genuinely, of course. It’s just a game. It doesn’t mean anything. 

She’s not _actually_ into it. 

Right?

***

Ben’s on a trip for work, some three-day conference in New York, and when she drops him off at the airport, he kisses her filthily in the car, ignoring the furious honks of pissed off drivers behind them. 

His hand cups the nape of her neck, his fingers threaded through the waves of her hair, and he pulls back so that only their foreheads are touching as he catches his breath, his eyes burning into her own. 

“Remember what we agreed on, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “No coming till I’m home.”

Rey nods hazily, still half in the kiss, and grips the steering wheel tight in both hands to steady herself. 

It’s not the first time they’ve done something like this, but three days is both the longest they’ve spent apart since they’ve been together and the longest she’s ever gone without an orgasm—at least while Ben’s been in her life.

The thought of the coming days is both daunting and incredibly exciting. 

“Hey,” Ben says, and rests his hand on her bare thigh, just under the hem of her shorts. His palm covers nearly the length of the exposed skin of her thigh, warm and strong. “I love you, Rey.”

She turns to face him, still conscious of the flow of traffic behind them, and her eyes track across the face she knows so well. 

“I love you too, Ben. But get out the car now,” she replies smartly, gesturing with a tilt of her head towards the waiting queue of vehicles. “The faster you go, the faster you’ll come back.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, eyes dropping down to trace the contours of her body, and Ben sounds far too pleased with himself when he speaks. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The huff of indignation she lets out isn’t even for show. Over the course of their relationship, she’s let herself slowly become more comfortable with being spoiled, with giving up control and surrendering to whatever Ben has planned for her. With being taken care of. 

With him, it’s become easy. 

Easy to sink back, lie down, let him take over her body. To let him use the strength he keeps so tightly coiled inside to drive her higher and higher, over the edge, further than she’s ever gone before. 

Rey wouldn’t have it any other way.

“ _Go_ ,” she urges, pushing at Ben’s arm. He huffs out a laugh and swings open the car door, jogging round to the other side with his bag slung over one shoulder and knocking at her window until she sighs and rolls it down. 

“Remember and be a good girl for me, baby,” he murmurs, low around the bustling traffic. “It’ll pay off for you in the end.”

***

The first day without Ben is anticlimactic—in more ways than one.

It passes without consequence: a few texts shot back and forth between them in the morning; a picture of the heated-up leftovers she eats at her desk for lunch; a half-hour phone call while she’s getting ready for bed, humming around her toothbrush as Ben details the presentations he’s sat through and the fact that his hotel room is (unfortunately) right next to Armitage Hux’s. 

Rey passes out quickly, and wakes the next morning with her arm thrown out across Ben’s side of the bed, her leg hiked up and over the pillow that she’s dragged close in sleep. 

When she showers, her hand slides down the flat plane of her stomach without her even thinking about it, the hot water beating down on her shoulders. She half-expects Ben to slide open the shower screen, steam billowing out behind him as he crowds her against the cool tiled wall, his erection hard against her hip. 

In her imagination, he presses kisses to the curve of her neck, hands sliding over her skin, and when she douses her loofa in his shower gel—because it smells like him, and she _misses_ that smell—the enclosed space fills with steam and the familiar scents of sandalwood and bergamot fill the air, warm and intoxicating.

Her hand has traced its way between her legs before she even realises, following the path of the suds that drip off her body, and she’s so _tempted_. With the heat of the water and the smell of Ben in the air, it would be so easy to angle her body beneath the stream, let her practiced fingers coax out a shuddering orgasm. Ben doesn’t have to know.

But she promised. 

And she realises that, deep down, she doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

Rey rinses off with perfunctory quickness, squeezing the moisture out of her hair and letting it dry loosely down her back. Her towel catches against sensitive skin, and her nipples pebble in the cool air of the bathroom, the rough cotton setting her nerve endings alight. It’s with determined precision that she dries herself, deliberately dressing in comfortable, loose fabrics. 

She’s an adult. Her body isn’t going to betray her. She can do this. 

Time drags interminably, the day off she’s been _so_ looking forward to lost to a mindless haze of low-level arousal. When Ben texts her sometime after eleven, updating her on his morning, it’s all she can do not to break—to beg him for relief. 

She can’t get anything done, all of her focus pulled to the ache between her legs.

But Rey knows he won’t give in. He knows her limits better than she does sometimes, and as frustrating as waiting is, she knows the pay-off will be worth it.

Instead, she throws herself into tasks she can do on autopilot, all the chores that need to be done around the apartment that she’s been neglecting. The vacuum is brought out, all of the nooks and crannies dusted, and Ben’s grand piano is polished to a high shine, sitting in pride of place in their living room, a framed photograph of them at Finn and Poe’s wedding on top.

Before she knows it, it’s nearly seven in the evening, and when she mops the sweat from her brow their apartment is sparkling, candles lit and dishes done from the quick dinner she inhaled alone.

They have a standing phone call at half past, so when she jumps in the shower for the second time that day, Rey is ruthless in her efficiency, hands staying firmly above the belt as she scrubs herself clean. She has just enough time to twist her hair into a braid and pull on pyjama bottoms and a bralette, dragging her favourite of Ben’s jumpers over the top and tugging up the sleeves where they fall over her hands.

The black fabric is faded nearly grey and worn soft from use, and there’s a nickel-sized hole that hits just below Ben’s nipple, but she doesn’t care. The essence of him is soaked deep into the material, and ever since she requisitioned it early in their relationship it’s been the one item she keeps near when she’s missing him, either wearing it or sleeping with it draped over his pillow. 

Her phone rings at precisely twenty-nine minutes past the hour, and Rey curls up on the sofa as she slides her finger across the screen to answer, legs folded underneath her body and tucked into the excess jumper that puddles where she sits.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Ben greets her, his voice low and scratchy over the line. She can’t help the flood of butterflies that swarm in her stomach, how every molecule in her body relaxes at the sound of his low rumble. She’s missed him more than she realised.

“Hi, Ben,” she whispers back, one hand coming up to fiddle with the ragged threads of the jumper’s hole. “How was your day?”

He sighs, crackling over the airwaves, and Rey knows immediately, without asking, that the day was both long and unforgiving. He works so hard, long hours at the law firm, and although she’d normally get on her knees to show her sympathy, the distance between them has left her to her only resort: a reassuring murmur over the phone. 

“Shit,” he complains, and she hums in acknowledgement. As Ben launches into a diatribe about the general incompetence of his coworkers and every employee involved in the conference, Rey lets herself be lulled into a trance by the rhythm of his voice.

It’s not hard to imagine that he’s talking about something else—chastising her instead of his colleagues, telling her what he wants her to do to herself instead of explaining the contents of some legal presentation.

She shifts on the sofa, thighs clenching, and debates what she can get away with.

“—Like he hadn’t embarrassed Pryde in front of the investors, the fucking idiot. Right, Rey?”

She’s rudely jolted out of her fantasy, hand pulling away from the hem of her jumper, and she makes a small noise of agreement. 

But Ben can tell that her mind was elsewhere. She can never lie to him, even when they’re not face to face.

“Were you listening, sweetheart?” he asks, fond, and laughs quietly at her attempt to convince him that _yes,_ she was, she’s incredibly interested in his tales of Hux’s general incompetence, not desperately turned on with no hope of relief.

“Are you a little… distracted?”

“ _Ben_ ,” she whines, biting her lip. “Don’t tease me.”

“Poor baby,” he murmurs, condescension dripping down the phone. “I’ve spoiled you, haven’t I? Can’t even go two days without my cock.”

Rey flushes instantly, deep red spreading from her cheeks to her chest, her nipples drawing to tight points against the lace of her bralette. He’s right, of course—she’s got used to a constant supply of orgasms, Ben’s mouth on her whenever she wants it—but having him say it out loud makes the whole thing feel much more _real_.

He laughs, low across the airwaves, and the sound of it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Please,” she whispers, heart in her throat. “I’ve been good.”

Ben tuts, and she knows he isn’t serious but her stomach still drops at the fear of letting him down.

“Not good enough, sweetheart. Not if you’re already begging like this when I won’t even be home till tomorrow.”

She knows he’s right, as much as she hates it. She _hasn’t_ been good—hot all day and distracted in the shower, plotting how to defy him, how to wring out pleasure without him finding out. 

But Ben _always_ finds out. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, twisting her hand in the black wool of the jumper. With her phone tucked between the crook of her neck and her shoulder she has both hands free, one resting low on the base of her stomach, and her skin jumps at the touch, warm and taut. Even as she’s apologising she debates sneaking a hand beneath the waistband of her underwear. 

Then again, she’s never come quietly in her life. 

“I’ll do better,” she continues in a whisper. “I promise.”

“Hmm,” Ben says. Rey can practically see him, the lazy smirk she knows so well spread across his mouth. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you, baby?”

She shakes her head unconsciously, and when Ben clears his throat and redirects the conversation to the conference plan for tomorrow it’s a blessed reprieve. She’s only human. There’s only so much she can take before she snaps. 

After they’ve said goodnight and her phone is safely out of reach, plugged in on top of her bedside table, she gets under the covers and closes her eyes, ready to sleep and wake up one day closer to _relief_.

***

Except she can’t. 

Staring unseeing at the ceiling in the dark, Rey groans loudly in the silence of the bedroom, throwing her arm over her face. Not too long ago, she would have relished in the chance to starfish alone in a king-sized bed with ridiculously high thread-count sheets and a mattress that she sinks right into. 

But now, she’s too used to Ben—to _having_ someone. It’s alien, sleeping alone. They haven’t been apart since she moved in, nearly a year ago now, and without the reassuring weight of his arm around her and the heat of him at her back Rey finds that sleep refuses to come to her easily. 

It’s not just sleeping next to him she misses. It’s _him_ , full stop: the way he makes every room seem smaller just by stepping inside; the way his smile lights up his whole face when he looks at her. And sure, she misses some other parts of him too: his thick fingers; his talented tongue; his _cock._

Rey’s become accustomed to a certain level of care. 

She shifts aimlessly, the cotton duvet cool against her bare legs, and when she reaches to check the time she swears under her breath at the realisation that she’s been lying awake for hours.

A headache threatens at her temples and she shifts to prop herself up on her elbows, wincing at the glare of her phone screen. She knows one surefire way to tire herself out, but there’s one problem.

Ben’s made it expressly forbidden.

Rey bites her lip, eyeing the time with rising frustration. She could do it—she _could_ , and he’d be none the wiser, and she’d get a full night’s sleep.

But does she want to?

Leaning against the pillows, she crosses her hands over her stomach, her phone held tight in a sweaty palm. It won’t take long—she knows her own body ( _not as well as Ben does_ , her traitorous brain points out) and she’s been worked up all day, liable to go off like a rocket at the first touch between her legs.

She won’t even need to look up porn. The day before he left, Ben tied her to the bed and teased her for what felt like hours, ignoring her sobbing pleas for relief until he wrung out an orgasm that shook her to her core.

Afterwards, as his cock slid between her folds, Rey buried her burning face in the pillow, whining around the stretch of him and mouthing that one, desperate word.

_Daddy._

At the memory of it, desire throbs low in her belly. The urge to blurt it out like a dirty secret haunts her every time they’re in bed, as much as she tries to deny it.

It’s not that she’s ashamed. Not really. But that leap—taking it from something packaged neatly away to unleashing it, like Pandora’s box—taunts her. 

Maybe it’s the fear that Ben won’t be into it, that she’ll spill her deep dark desires and he’ll retreat like a turtle back into his shell. But she _knows_ him—knows how he looks when he’s turned on, how he loses it just a little bit quicker when she makes her voice go high and sweet, when she begs him to come inside her. 

Last summer she developed an obsession with tennis skirts and he couldn’t keep his hands off her, constantly sliding one palm up the curve of her inner thigh, fingers brushing her center regardless of whether they were sat on the couch or squeezed into a booth at a restaurant. 

The day she dared to wear knee-highs and no underwear, his brain did a hard reset, and he bent her over the kitchen island and flipped her skirt over her ass, making them more than fashionably late for brunch.

So no. Ben seems like a pretty safe bet.

It’s the fear of the unknown that gets her, the slightest chance that it could all backfire horribly. The looking before she leaps.

But Rey is _really_ fucking horny. 

Maybe it’s the distance that makes her bolder, or the time difference. New York and Chicago are only an hour apart, but it’s late enough that Ben might be asleep. _Should_ be asleep, if the itinerary he told her about is any indicator, packed full of early morning meetings.

It makes it easier to throw caution to the wind, having a safety net. If he doesn’t reply, then she can wave it off tomorrow. After all, this is casual. Testing the waters. 

_**Rey @ 00:27** _

**__** _are u awake??_

_i miss u_

Of course, his reply comes through almost before her message has fully been sent. 

_**Ben @ 00:27** _

**__** _I miss you too, sweetheart._

_**Rey @ 00:28** _

**__** _no like_

_i Really miss u_

A beat. She watches the icon of Ben’s typing as it appears and disappears, thinks of him hundreds of miles away, tucked up in bed. 

_**Rey @ 00:30** _

**__** _i want to come_

His next message takes minutes to come through, minutes she spends with her lower lip caught between her teeth. She chews at the skin as she waits, her thighs rocking together under the covers. 

_**Ben @ 00:34** _

**__** _Rey._

_We talked about this._

_Be a good girl. For me._

Her breath catches, caught between desire and trepidation. She could accept defeat graciously, slide her phone under her pillow and keep her hands firmly above the blankets, try her best to fall asleep. 

Or. 

She could be reckless. 

She wants to be reckless. 

_**Rey @ 00:37** _

**__** _but im not a good girl_

_please_

When he doesn’t reply instantly, she bites her lip, hard, every molecule of her body tense. This is it: the jump off the cliffside, the point of no return. 

Her fingers fly across the keyboard, typing out the two little words that have been driving her mad and pressing send before she can second-guess herself.

**_Rey @ 00:39_ **

**__** _please daddy_

Her phone rings instantly, and when she sees Ben’s name lighting up the screen her heart jumps into her throat. 

“Rey,” he says, his voice wrecked. She can practically see him, shirtless in bed, knows the way his brow furrows and the muscle under his eye jumps. “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” she breathes, giddy, reckless, standing on the edge of the precipice and about to throw herself off. “I want it, Daddy.”

Saying it out loud for the first time sends a bolt of heat straight between her legs, the word solidifying the air in front of her. 

“Jesus Christ,” Ben huffs out, and she bites back a grin. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, sugar-sweet. If he were in front of her, she’d lick her lips, twirl an errant strand of hair around her finger. She’s got Ben right where she wants him.

She barely hears his muffled curse over the phone. When he speaks again his voice is lower, smoother, the tone he adopts when they’ve agreed to go a little harder at night, and Rey feels it all the way down to the tips of her toes.

“Baby,” he starts, dark and knowing. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

She should have known he wouldn’t make it easy on her. It was too much to hope that he’d be struck dumb with want and forget their arrangement. 

“We made an agreement—“

“ _You_ made an agreement,” she interrupts churlishly. “You didn’t give me much choice.”

Maybe it’s immature of her, but the peak that seemed so easy is slipping out of reach before her eyes. Rey thinks she deserves to be a little petty. It doesn’t matter that absence makes the heart grow fonder, that she _knows_ the orgasm Ben will give her when he gets home is better than anything she can give herself. She wants to come now. 

“And? Nothing’s forcing you to behave. You’ve been alone for two days, baby. I wouldn’t have known.”

He’s right. There _isn’t_ anything concrete stopping her, nothing aside from the implicit knowledge that she’d disappoint him.

“But you like being good for me, don’t you, Rey? Hm?”

The _yes_ she murmurs under her breath is just admitting something he already knows. It’s no secret between them that she goes weak in the knees when Ben gives her an order, when his dark eyes flare as he praises her. 

“You like doing what Daddy tells you.”

He must hear her sharp gasp through the phone, because the speaker at her ear crackles as he laughs lowly. 

“I know,” he continues. “You want it so bad. But let’s lay down some ground rules first.”

Despite it all, she wants to laugh. It’s so like him, managing to take control of the situation even though she blindsided him with it. It’s what she loves about their dynamic—he’ll do anything to make her happy.

“You’re not getting to come.”

Do anything— _except_ what she wants right this second. 

“ _Daddy_ ,” Rey keens, one hand trapped between her clenched thighs. “Please let me. I need it.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Ben says. She can hear the satisfied smirk in his voice. “You didn’t think I’d give in that easily, did you?” 

She doesn’t want to admit that she _had_ thought that, and she whines needily into the phone, her hand so close to where she wants it. 

“We can stop this right now, Rey,” Ben says, suddenly serious. “If it’s too much—” 

“No!”

She blurts it out without caring about how desperate she sounds. At this point, even aborted pleasure is better than nothing at all, and the liquid fire that suffused her body when Ben called himself _Daddy_ refuses to dampen. There’s no way she can sleep just yet.

“Okay,” he continues, softly reassuring. “I want this to be good for you, baby. Tell me when it’s too much, alright? Say ‘red’ when you need to stop.”

“I won’t need to stop,” Rey replies immediately. “I can take it.”

At this, he huffs in amusement and the crackles rumble through the airwaves, sending shivers down her spine. Her pulse throbs between her legs and she moans quietly, so worked up before they’ve even properly started. 

“We’ll see about that, sweetheart.”

She holds her breath in anticipation, and she hears the muffled creak of a mattress on the other end of the line as Ben situates himself—taking his time, drawing it out for as long as possible. 

She’s fidgety and impatient, and although she _tries_ to wait for him, tries to be good, she can’t help herself. 

“ _Ben_ ,” she whines, and she’s met with his low chuckle again, before he finally speaks.

“What are you wearing?”

It should be funny—the eternal cliche, the number one item on lists of things not to say, but her breath catches regardless. Somehow, when it’s Ben, the embarrassment she had expected to feel is almost negligible. 

She thinks about lying to him: inventing lingerie, describing lace and silk in his favourite colour, rich against her fair skin. But he knows her—knows what she’s like. He can always tell when she’s not telling the truth. 

“Your jumper,” she says, free hand toying at the hem and teasing the fabric up the plane of her stomach. “And underwear. A lace bralette.”

“What colour?”

“The jumper?” She asks, looking down at herself in mock curiosity, even though he can’t see her. “It’s your favourite.”

“Don’t be cute, Rey.”

The bite at the end of his sentence reminds her forcibly of what they’re doing. What she instigated. 

“I’m sorry,” she replies, dragging the _y_ out and debating how cloying to go. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Ben grunts at that, and Rey can hear the rustle of sheets on the line as he shifts in bed. She closes her eyes and tries to picture him, his dark hair messy where he’s propped against the pillows, pale chest glowing faintly in the moonlight. Is he touching himself yet?

“You’re promising a lot, baby,” he rumbles. “Better make sure you can follow through.”

“I can, Daddy,” she teases. “They’re red. Red cotton. I was cold in bed all alone, and your jumper smells like you. It’s like you’re with me.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks. It thrills her, how quickly she’s got him worked up, despite him ostensibly having control. “My sweet girl is lonely without me?”

She pouts, even though he can’t see her. “You know I am. The bed’s too big for just me.”

He hums, no doubt remembering the _many_ nights he’s spent pressed to the edge of the bed while she lies with arms and legs sprawled out wildly.

“That’s not all you’re missing though, is it?” he asks, and Rey swallows harshly. “You’re missing Daddy’s fingers, too. Daddy’s cock.”

His words are heady, intoxicating, the culmination of every fantasy she’s ever had, and she doesn’t need to slip a hand beneath the waistband to know that she’s soaking through the fabric, but she does it anyway.

“Oh _God,_ ” she gasps out, heat flooding her body. “Please let me touch myself.”

She’s been pent up for _days_ , and the first touch to the sensitive skin has her moaning before she can stop herself, nearly dropping her phone as she flings her free arm across her mouth to muffle the sound. 

“What are you doing, Rey?”

”I—” she whimpers, two fingers trailing through her wetness and making slow circles around her clit, tension building as she clenches around nothing. “I have my hand between my legs— Daddy, please—”

“Did I give you permission?”

Ben’s voice is like velvet, deceptively gentle, and Rey breathes shakily as she withdraws her hand, resting it on her lower stomach and shivering at the loss of contact. Underneath the duvet, she’s boiling hot, and she kicks the covers off with a ruffle of fabric to crumple at the bottom of the bed. 

“I stopped,” she says, voice small. 

“Good girl,” Ben praises, and Rey _throbs_ with want, her heart pounding at the crux of her thighs. 

She could keep going, try to muffle her moans and steady her breathing, but the loss of control is making her weak, making her want to behave, if only for a chance at relief. 

“Remember,” he says. If she concentrates, she can hear the slick sound of skin on skin, slow and steady, and Ben grunts out a curse under his breath. “Only I get to make you come.”

“Are you touching yourself?” she asks, boldness seizing her as desire burns through her veins. She can picture it so clearly, his big hand wrapped around his cock, slowly wringing out pleasure as he listens to her pant and whine.

He’s big all over, hands and chest and thighs, all heavily-guarded strength, and she can’t help but imagine that it’s his hands on her now, marking her, filling her up, reducing her to nothing but a mindless mess of satisfaction.

The hum of assent he lets out makes her whimper. 

“Daddy, I _need_ —” she cries, fingers drumming a pattern against her stomach as she presses her thighs together, rocking back and forth against the mattress. “Please, I’ll be good— I won’t come, I _promise_ , just please let me touch myself.” 

“Okay, sweetheart,” Ben starts, breathing heavily. “I want you to put the phone on speaker and put it between your legs. I want to hear you.”

“Oh my God,” she moans, face burning, but she does as he asks with shaky fingers. Without the phone by her ear she’s abruptly aware of how loud she’s being, panting and begging for him, and she flushes scarlet when Ben speaks and the sound goes straight to her clit.

“Take the sweater off, Rey,” he orders, and she sits up quickly, tugging the material over her head and collapsing back on the bed. The air is cool against her newly exposed skin and her nipples pebble in the chill as she reaches under the lace of her bralette to tease at her sensitive breasts.

“What now, Daddy?”

Ben grunts low, the sound of his movements echoing slightly. When he speaks he sounds barely constrained, as on edge as she feels. 

“You can use a finger, baby. Just one,” he says. Rey moves instantly, sliding beneath the cotton of her underwear and whimpering as soon as she makes contact, forgoing her clit and pressing inside herself to the first knuckle.

She’s _so_ wet, slick with it, her inner thighs glossy. So worked up that she’s dancing on a knife-edge, wanting to be good but wanting the ecstasy more, and her breath catches as she moves her other hand down her body to trail circles round her clit, soft and slow. Drawing it out.

Her hips arch off the bed as her back bows, the touch so close to what she’s been dreaming of ever since he left her, the peak just out of reach.

“I need more, Daddy, _please_ ,” she begs, every point of her focused at the heartbeat that thrums between her legs.

“I know you do, baby. But I like you desperate.”

She can’t contain the cry that erupts out of her at his words. Desperate is the only word for it, the way that her world has narrowed to only the possibility of pleasure.

She pushes her underwear down to the top of her thighs and adds a second finger without even thinking about it, choking against a bitten off moan. It feels like she’s outside her body, watching herself writhe against the sheets, mind empty beyond her flagrant need.

“I know it’s not enough for you,” Ben repeats, voice like gravel. “My greedy girl. But you’ll take what I give you, won’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” she whines, and clenches around her own fingers. She’s so used to Ben inside her, stretching her out, one of his fingers bigger than two of her own. It’s a pale imitation of the real thing, but she’s _aching_. 

“You can add another, baby. Fuck yourself with your fingers.”

Ben sounds like he’s run a marathon, harsh breathing coming through the line. Rey heaves in a gulp of air, her fingers speeding up ever so slightly, and feels the tension build in her body as her thighs jump and her body threatens to curl in on itself.

She adds a third, moaning through it, but it’s nothing compared to Ben. His fingers reach places hers just can’t, but even the memory of them is enough to have her gasping.

“Can I—” she pants, breathless, the circles on her clit pushing her inexorably towards the brink. “My vibrator..?”

It’s right there, taunting her in the bedside drawer, able to draw out an orgasm in thirty seconds—not as big as Ben’s cock, but thick enough that she gasps around the stretch every time.

His laugh sounds almost surprised, a huff of air, like he can’t quite believe her.

“No, Rey,” he grits out, the rhythmic slide of his hand a staccato in the background. “This isn’t for you. You said you’d be my good girl.”

She keens at that, torn between dissolving into a puddle and cursing him helplessly. She _needs_ it, more than she’s ever needed anything in her life. She didn’t even say _yes_ to his stupid agreement.

The waistband of her underwear digs into the outside of her thighs, trapping her legs together, and Rey rocks into her hand, the heel of her palm replacing her fingers and pressing against her clit with every thrust. 

“Daddy, are you close?” she chokes out, gripping the bed sheets so tightly with her free hand she’s surprised they don’t tear. Her only hope is Ben losing it before she does so that she can follow him over the edge without him realising, damn the consequences. 

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he moans. She wants to see him, wants to watch him fuck into his fist and imagine he’s filling her cunt, imagine that he’s the one making her fall apart instead of just his voice. “Wanna come so bad.” 

“I want you to,” Rey babbles, wanton, not even playing it up. She’s so close, on the edge of pleasure. “Want you to come in me, fill me up. I’ve been a good girl for you—oh, _fuck_ —I deserve it, Daddy—”

“Jesus _Christ,_ ” Ben swears, words trailing off into choked grunts as the noise of his hand gets louder and faster. “God, sweetheart, I love you so much—so fucking good for me, so perfect. Want to keep you like this all the time—Wish it was you touching me— _holy fuck_ —”

He groans like he’s dying and the sound of his impending orgasm pushes her that much closer, back arching into her own touch.

“ _Daddy I wanna hear you_ ,” she cries out, screwing her eyes shut, and when Ben comes with a slew of curses, pleasure twists low in her belly, a knot coiling tighter and tighter until her palm catches her clit at just the right angle and she shakes apart with a plaintive wail, every muscle in her body tensed to draw the feeling out as long as she can.

The pleasure wracks her body for longer than she thought possible, until it’s on the edge of pain, and when the feeling recedes she collapses back onto the bed and gasps for air, thighs clenching helplessly.

“Rey,” comes Ben’s voice, raw and hoarse but still stern. Her phone lies abandoned between her legs and she picks it up with trembling hands, barely able hear him over her frantic breathing. “Baby. Did you just come?”

Hitting the end call button doesn’t even register as an option until she’s already done it, heart thudding in her ears, a tattoo in the sudden silence. Without Ben’s voice the room is quiet, the only noise the hitch of her breath, and when her phone screen lights up in the dark, Rey’s heart pounds in her chest.

_**Ben @ 01:24** _

**__** _I’ll deal with you when I get home._

What should be a threat instead sends a bolt of leftover arousal through her veins, and her fingers dash across the keyboard, typing out a reply that she’s sure to regret come the next day.

_**Rey @ 01:25** _

**__** _can’t wait daddy xx_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, sorry for the slight delay in updates!
> 
> this fic quickly turned into me practising writing things i hadn’t tackled before, so please do check the updated tags to make sure the content of this chapter is something you’re okay with! i think i’ve covered everything but again, let me know in the comments if there’s something you think i’ve missed. 
> 
> once more, huge thanks to [rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintillant/pseuds/scintillant), who really deserves a co-writing credit for this chapter <3 
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Ben’s text comes through after Rey spends a day determinedly ignoring her phone, zoning out on the L train back from her office building and nearly missing her stop. It’s all because she’s too busy thinking about the way the word _Daddy_ had rolled off his tongue, like he’d been waiting to say it for almost as long as she had.

_**Ben @ 18:09** _

**__** _Flight gets in at 9, will uber home._

Rey blinks at her screen, bright in the dimly lit living room, and bites her bottom lip. Is this how they’re playing it? Pretending like nothing happened?

It’s the first she’s heard from Ben since she disobeyed his direct order last night—no good morning text, no lunchtime updates—and his silence is unnerving. 

Her phone chirps again. 

_**Ben @ 18:10** _

**__** _I want you waiting by the front door for me._

_On your knees._

_Like a good girl._

_Ah_ , she thinks, deliberately ignoring the frisson of excitement that runs down her spine. He’s not annoyed, then, not trying to play it off and return to normalcy without discussing the fact that last night was the hardest either of them have come for a very long time. 

No. Ben is just as interested as she is—maybe even more.

And that bodes very well for his return.

***

Three hours have never felt so long to Rey, dragging on endlessly.

She does her best to keep herself busy, hopping in the shower and meticulously shaving every inch of her body before slathering herself in lotion. She styles her hair in loose curls, waves falling down her shoulders, and when she applies a light coating of makeup she stares at herself in the mirror for several long minutes before grabbing her favourite red lipstick, slicking it on and carefully checking for smudges. 

She debates what to wear for longer than she cares to admit. Ben hasn’t asked for anything, after all, so he can’t _really_ complain if he comes home to her in a holey t-shirt and pyjamas. But Rey takes another look at herself in the mirror, at her carefully styled hair and the flush on her cheeks that’s down to more than just blush. There’s no pretending that this is anything but a seduction. 

Who is being seduced remains to be seen. 

Before Ben, _lingerie_ wasn’t a word in her vocabulary. Underwear was functional cotton, bras were optional half the time, and if she still bought multipack knickers from the supermarket then that was her business, because no one was going to see them anyway.

And then Ben came along, with his lawyer’s salary and his upper-storey apartment and his appreciation for beautiful things, and Rey’s drawer of utilitarian basics was slowly replaced with lace in every colour of the rainbow—strappy and flimsy and _completely,_ wholly impractical.

Every time she turned her back, something new was added, delicate sets replacing whatever he’d torn off her the night before, single-handedly keeping the industry going. She knows he finds her beautiful in whatever she wears, but tonight calls for the big guns.

His favourite. 

Rey’s fingers trip over straps and mesh, drawing out the scraps of lace out of the drawer and stepping into the underwear, sliding the fabric up her slender legs. It takes some careful maneuvering to hook the bra behind her back, and she moves to see herself in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall, admiring the way the black material contrasts against the paler skin of her chest and stomach.

The cups are nearly sheer, intricate embroidery at the essential areas, revealing only a hint of what lies beneath, and the same pattern decorates the matching thong. She turns, examining herself from all angles, a satisfied smile spreading across her face when she realises just how little skin is covered.

Lingerie like this is made to do one thing only: tease.

And that lines up very well with her plans for the night. 

The air of the bedroom is cool against her skin, goosebumps pricking on her arms and legs, and Rey shivers, not only out of anticipation. She crosses to Ben’s side of the walk-in wardrobe and pulls one of his shirts off a hanger, reveling in the softness of the white cotton between her fingers. When she shrugs it on top of her underwear it falls to nearly mid-thigh, and she pauses to breathe in the lingering scent of his cologne in the fabric.

She settles on the bed, legs crossed on top of the duvet as she tries to bide her time until his arrival, but the soft chime of an incoming text message breaks the silence.

The soft chime of an incoming text message breaks the silence.

_**Ben @ 21:07** _

**__** _Just landed. Will be 40 mins._

_I love you._

Butterflies erupt in the bottom of her stomach instantly, a sharp leap of joy followed by nervous excitement. Every hair on her body is standing on end, wondering what she’s in for when Ben gets home. 

Will he be angry? Will he ignore her?

Or will he be exhausted, too tired from the conference to do anything about the need that’s eating her alive?

She prays it isn’t the third option.

_**Rey @ 21:08** _

**__** _i love you too x_

_see you soon_

Forty minutes is no time at all, all things considered, and she gets up from the bed with a small huff of effort, padding through to the living room on bare feet and carefully lighting the candles that are scattered round the room. 

The front door to the apartment looms out of the corner of her eye, dark and impenetrable, and Rey surveys the tiled floor of their entryway with trepidation.

She bruises so easily, is all—and when it’s Ben that’s caused them, they’re souvenirs, his fingerprints stamped on her hips or ass or tits, evidence of how badly he wants her. But bruises left by long minutes spent kneeling on hard floors don’t hold nearly the same appeal.

Surely, she reasons, she can wait somewhere else: keep an eye on the time and move into position when she hears his heavy tread on the stairs. Ben won’t have to know. 

Their sofa faces away from the door, turned towards the wide windows of the living room, and Rey settles down with a sigh, swinging her legs up to recline with her head against the armrest. 

She’s good at waiting, practiced at being her only company, but the anticipation that bubbles low in her stomach has her fidgeting against the sofa, borrowed shirt rasping against her skin. She could watch tv while she waits, but the noise might drown out the sound of Ben’s arrival. She could read, but the novel she’s halfway through is lying abandoned in the bedroom, and she’s only just got comfortable.

Or. 

She could think about what Ben has in store for her.

Suspense sends a shiver down her spine as a heady ache coalesces at the apex of her thighs, the endless possibilities unfurling before her as her mind goes wild.

They aren’t strangers to this push-pull of power. Ben’s single-minded intensity is a powerful drug, but the excitement of something new—something thrillingly taboo—has her breath catching.

What will he do, when he gets home? 

She’ll be on her knees already. He could have his cock down her throat before he even says _hello_ , have her gasping around the thick length of him in her mouth and making a mess on the floor before they’ve even kissed. 

That is, if she behaves. 

Rey shivers all over, squeezing her legs together. Even over the phone, Ben’s disapproval when she came without permission was evident, but instead of feeling nervous at his reaction she’s reveling in the power that comes with pushing his buttons, seeing how far she can take things.

He always catches her when she leaps over the edge.

Her nipples are drawn to tight points against the delicate embroidery of her bra, every inch of her skin alert, and when she brushes her fingers over the sensitive buds she gasps, the heat at her center solidifying. 

It’s the work of a second to draw the gusset of her underwear aside with one hand, dipping one finger into the wetness that’s gathered and tracing around her sensitive clit, gentle at first. She just wants to take the edge off a little, quiet the buzzing in her veins. 

Her hands are never as satisfying as Ben’s, and as Rey rocks into her own touch she huffs, wishing her fingers were thicker, that she could curve them to hit that sensitive spot inside herself. She can already tell that this orgasm will be fleeting, but even that’s enough to temper the throbbing in her core.

The door swings open.

She should stop. She _knows_ she should stop. 

But she’s so close to the edge, and she screws her eyes shut and arches into her hand, determinedly ignoring the sharp _click_ of Ben’s shoes against the tiled floor. Over the back of the sofa, his shadow falls across her, her skin prickling with the awareness of his presence.

“What are you doing?”

Upside down, she blinks up at him, still somehow put-together where most men would seem disheveled from a cross-country flight. His hair is mussed where he’s no doubt ran his fingers through it, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Rey’s gaze strays from the glasses perched on his nose to the dark strap of his watch, gold accents glinting in the dim light. 

“What does it look like?” she gasps, brazen, not slowing the movement of her fingers, eyes caught on the pale expanse of his forearms. “You took too long. I was bored.”

He laughs at her, deep and rich, and the sound spreads through her body, makes some secret, hidden part of her go pliant and soft. 

“No, baby. We talked about this.” 

Ben reaches over the sofa and grabs her wrist, his fingers overlapping around the slender joint, and Rey whines at the loss of contact, her hips jerking unconsciously as her release is snatched away.

“ _No_ , what are you—“

“Uh-uh,” he says, shaking his head. She shifts so she’s facing him, determinedly trying to slow her breathing, and tries to pull her hand away from the iron of his grip.

“Ben!” she cries, tugging fruitlessly, but he just stares down at her, his dark gaze piercing. 

Rey knows what she must look like: hair mussed, face flushed, his shirt falling off her shoulder and a dark patch spreading across her underwear. Her legs are splayed wide across the sofa, and she watches as Ben’s eyes drag slowly down her body, lingering at the apex of her thighs before sliding back up to meet her defiant stare.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he murmurs. “Breaking the rules once wasn’t enough—no, you had to show me just how much of a slut you are. Couldn’t even wait for me to get in the door.”

She swallows, her heart beating a rapid tattoo in her chest and desire pooling in the pit of her stomach. He stands in front of her, the thick line of his cock hard in his slacks, almost at eye level, and she _wants._

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

It’s a lie, of course. She hasn’t regretted a single action since sending that one fateful text. 

“No, you’re not,” Ben replies, voice knowing as he pulls at her wrist until she stumbles up to stand at his side, body leaning into his. 

Rey isn’t a small woman, threaded with lean muscle from years of hard work, but Ben is so _huge_ that she feels tiny beside him. The breadth of his shoulders blocks the expanse of their floor-to-ceiling windows from view, and when she stares into his eyes, the irises are barely visible behind the lenses of his glasses, whisky-brown blown black.

“Ben,” she says quietly, suddenly seized with the need to be reminded that it’s still _him_ under the persona, that even after he’s fucked her into a puddle of need he’ll still be gentle.

He must see the emotions playing across her face, desire warring with trepidation, because he softens infinitesimally, one warm palm smoothing down the curve of her shoulder.

“Say the word and this ends, Rey.”

“No,” she tells him breathlessly, reassured. “I want this. I want you, Ben.”

His eyes darken impossibly further, and something in him changes before her eyes—the way he stands a little bit taller, broader, the way his voice seems even deeper when he speaks.

“What is it that you want, sweetheart?” he says, looming over her. “I can’t help you if you don’t use your words.”

Rey swallows, tosses her hair behind her shoulders with a shake of her head. Her chest heaves with each breath, and she’s standing so close to Ben that she brushes against his clothed chest every time she inhales. 

“I want you to fuck me, Daddy.”

Saying it out loud, to his _face_ —at last, after months of secreting the desire away, mouthing it into pillows and hiding it behind moans, after a phone call where she came harder from his words than she can ever remember—makes her lightheaded with want. 

Ben hums approvingly, the corner of his mouth lifting in what’s almost a smile as he stares down at her.

“Good girl.”

Pleasure sends shivers down her spine, and her eyes flutter closed. 

“I want to fuck you too, baby,” Ben murmurs, as she senses him moving around her, gently pushing her forwards before stopping her with a press of his hand to her shoulder. “Missed you so bad when I was away. But you need to _learn_ first. You can’t keep disobeying me.”

Rey’s eyes blink open at the pressure against her thighs, and she looks down to see their glass dining table, Ben’s warmth at her back an assurance that she’s exactly where he wants her. 

“Take the shirt off and bend over the table.”

“Ben, wha—”

“Anyone would think you _wanted_ to be spanked, sweetheart,” he says, almost conversationally, reaching around to her front and undoing the buttons of her borrowed shirt, sliding the cotton off her shoulders and letting it slip to the floor. “Misbehaving, disrespecting me, coming without permission. You’ve been such a bad girl.”

With quick fingers, Ben unhooks her bra at her back and draws the straps down, letting the material sag before it joins her shirt in a crumpled heap. His touch is warm, and half-naked, Rey shivers in the cool air, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against her sensitive skin. 

“Hmm, Rey?”

“I have,” she repeats, swaying back against him, unable to resist grinding her ass into the line of his erection. “I’ve been a bad girl.”

Ben’s reflection in the window shakes his head, hands smoothing down her arms. He looks huge behind her, still fully clothed. When he grabs her by the hips and tugs her closer Rey’s legs turn to jelly. 

“And you disappointed me, baby. So what should we say? Ten strikes?”

He bends her over with one hand heavy in between her shoulders, bearing her down until her torso presses into the cool glass of the table and she jolts, hissing at the chill against her bare skin.

“What do you think, Rey?” Ben asks, trailing one hand down the expanse of her spine. She shivers at his touch, torn between arching into the featherlight stroke of his fingers and pushing further into the table, resting her chin on her crossed arms and turning to face him as much as she can.

“Please, Daddy,” she breathes as his hand slides over the curve of her ass, hooking the band of her underwear with two fingers and slowly dragging the fabric down. 

“Please _what_?” he replies, and Rey wants to groan aloud at his pedantry. He nudges her legs further apart with his foot at her ankles, her underwear digging in where it's caught on her upper thighs, keeping her spread for him. “You need to say it.”

“Please spank me.”

“All you had to do was ask, baby.”

“Ben,” she whines, arching against him, tilting her hips so she brushes against the slightly-scratchy wool of his slacks. “Stop teasing me and just _do_ it.”

The first swat of his hand against her is nothing, but she jumps in surprise, a squeak bubbling out of her. Rey fights the urge to giggle drunkenly, high on the knowledge that she’s _finally_ getting what she wants.

Ben’s hand smooths over her exposed skin, slowly creeping closer to the juncture of her thighs, where she _knows_ she’s embarrassingly wet—he hasn’t even touched her, not properly, and she’s already soaking, so desperate for something that hasn’t started yet.

“Come _on,_ Daddy. Do it prop— _oh!”_

The crack of his hand on her ass has her yelping before the sting even hits, rocking up on her toes away from his touch and pressing further into the tabletop, crying out when a second blow lands before she processes the bite of the first.

“What do you say?”

She can’t keep up with his barrage of questions, her mind too fuzzy to be coherent, but when she presses her forehead to the cool glass of the table for some relief Ben fists his hand in the hair at the base of her neck and tugs her upwards, forcing her to stare bleary-eyed out the window. 

Everything feels blurry, made fuzzy at the edge by want, and as she stares straight ahead at their reflection in the massive window all Rey can focus on is just how small she looks with Ben behind her, his big hand soothing the sting of her reddened flesh.

“Rey?” he probes, his eyes finding hers in the mirrored glass.

She knows what he wants without him having to voice it.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Ben groans low in the back of his throat, and she squeezes her eyes shut when she sees his arm swing backwards, her entire body going limp when he makes open-palmed contact with her tender skin.

The ache radiates outwards and she pants breathlessly, twitching as Ben looms above her.

“T-thank you, Daddy,” Rey hiccups, her head drooping to rest on her forearms. Her ass is on fire already from the force of his blows, wetness slipping down the inside of her thighs. It’s like he has a direct line to her clit, the sharp crack of pleasure-pain drowning out everything except the way she _needs._

“God, Rey,” Ben murmurs, voice hoarse. He traces a line across her burning skin, dipping between her legs to stroke gently over the seam of her cunt, and when she whimpers she can _see_ the grin in his voice. “You’re so pretty like this, sweetheart. Taking what I give you like a good girl.”

She hums hazily, eyes fluttering open to stare out the window. The lights of the city at night span for as far as she can see, and even though it’s impossible, Rey thrills at the thought of someone somewhere looking through their window and _seeing_ her, bent over the table with her legs spread as Ben stands behind her, his reflection a pale blur.

He must track her eye line, because he laughs lowly, fisting a hand in her hair as his hand comes down on her ass once more, the glint of his watch shining in the glass.

“You like it, don’t you, baby?” he says, bending to whisper in her ear. “The thought of someone watching you like this. You’re such a _slut.”_

The full-body shiver she breaks out in is obvious; Ben’s next few blows land on the untouched skin of her thighs and the tender, already red areas in quick succession, and Rey sobs her way through her thanks, legs quaking.

Ben smooths his free hand down her back, bumping over the knobs of her spine, the gentleness a sharp contrast to the way her entire body jolts from the force when he slaps her.

“One more, sweetheart,” he coaxes, barely waiting for her to nod before his hand comes down again, immediately cupping the swell of her ass and soothing the sting.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Rey repeats numbly, hyper-focused on the ache between her legs. If she rocks backwards she can brush against Ben’s cock so she _does_ , thrusting back into him.Ben makes a low noise of disapproval and grabs her, drawing her off the table and guiding her down until she rests on her knees on the cool floor, her underwear crumpled at her ankles.

“Ben, I—”

“ _Rey,_ ” he interrupts sternly, lifting her chin so she’s staring up at him, running the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip and smearing her lipstick. “You still haven’t learned, baby. You can’t even show me respect.”

Panic swells at the prospect of disappointing him and she scrambles to correct herself.

“Daddy, I don’t _understand_. I thought you wanted to fuck me.” 

“I do, sweetheart. And I will,” he says, unbuckling his belt and undoing the zipper of his trousers, drawing his cock out from his boxer briefs. “But let’s even the score a little first, hm? Suck.”

She blinks at him, mouth firmly closed, and Ben sighs a little, palming himself with one hand. With the other, he threads his fingers through her hair and tugs her closer, huffing a little in amusement when she clings onto his thigh with a panicked squeak to avoid falling over. 

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs softly, nudging her spread legs further apart with his foot so that she settles deeper into position, straining to keep her tender ass from resting on her heels. “Be a good girl for Daddy.”

She wants to be—good for him. Wants to let him lose himself in her, use her for his pleasure while she kneels pliant before him.

When she nuzzles into his inner thigh, Rey’s rewarded with Ben’s low hiss of frustration. She draws back, lips parted, and he wastes no time before he guides her closer to his cock and groans as she licks, kittenish, at the precome shining at his tip. 

Letting her eyes slide shut, she takes him into her mouth and moans around the stretch, one hand coming up to wrap around what she can’t swallow. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Ben grits out, cupping her cheek with the hand not fisted in her hair, guiding her as she starts to work her way up and down his shaft. “I missed your mouth, sweetheart—holy _fuck—_ ”

When she swallows around his length he swears violently, hand in her hair seizing as his hips jerk, just on the edge of losing control. Rey fights the urge to gag around him, tears pricking in her eyes. He’s so _big,_ the biggest she’s ever had, and she feels tiny in front of him, but the knowledge that she can bring him to his knees has desire buzzing heady through her veins. 

Every atom of her body not focused on Ben is centered on the ache between her legs, her inner thighs slipping when she tries to clench them together for relief. She’s so wet that she’s dripping on the floor, a puddle of slick forming beneath her, and when she slides a hand between her legs she barely makes contact with her sensitive clit before she’s on the verge of coming. 

Ben’s sharp eyes notice the new flush in her cheeks instantly, and his gaze darkens impenetrably before he pulls her off him by her hair, her scalp stinging. It’s all she can do to whine, missing the weight of him in her mouth, but she can tell by the look on his face that he’s disappointed. 

“I wasn’t _done_ , Daddy,” she pants breathlessly, dashing away the spit running down her chin with the back of her hand. It’s reckless, testing him like this, but it’s paid off for her so far—everything tonight except his persistent refusal to let her orgasm has gone exactly like she planned.

“What are you doing?”

His tone is deceptively light as he tucks himself back into his briefs, and as desperate as she is, she falls for it, too consumed by lust to read into the ice that’s hidden just beneath the surface.

“I—I’m—” Rey wets her lips, fingers working at her clit, and Ben looks down at her from where he stands above her, his face smooth and expressionless. “Daddy, I _need_ —"

She moves frantically, hips rocking in small circles as she rides her hand, and she bites her lip to hold in the keen bubbling in her throat. 

“Rey, sweetheart.” 

Ben’s voice is sharp now, cutting through the haze in her mind. Her hand freezes, and she looks up at him as it clicks. 

“This is what got you into trouble in the first place, baby,” he chides, shaking his head. “Touching yourself—touching what belongs to _me_ —and making yourself come without permission.”

She’s silent in the face of his accusation, cheeks burning with shame. He’s right. She was supposed to be good.

“Up,” Ben says, breathing heavily. He tugs her up to stand on unsteady legs and captures her lips in a searing kiss, one hand wrapped around the base of her throat—not choking, just the heavy presence of his thumb resting at her pulse point, her heartbeat running wild under his hold.

It’s the first kiss he’s given her since he walked through the door, and dizzily, Rey thinks back to earlier that evening, when she waited for him on the sofa and fantasised about sucking him off as a proper welcome home present.

Their night has turned out better than she could have imagined.

She grabs on to Ben by the front of his shirt, clinging to him like a mast in a storm, and when he braces his hands at the back of her thighs and hauls her over his shoulder she shrieks helplessly, drumming her fists against his back.

“I’m going to give you what you want, baby,” he starts, making his way to the bedroom and giving her ass a cursory slap, huffing when she yelps. “Since you’re so desperate for someone to pay attention to your pretty little cunt. Do you want me to eat you out, sweetheart?”

“Oh my God, Daddy, _yes,_ ” she pants, blood rushing to her head.

All of the air is forced out her lungs as Ben deposits her on the bed with a heave, bouncing on the mattress. She scrambles up to rest against the pillows, watching as he hastily divests himself of his shirt and trousers, left in only his black boxer-briefs, the material clinging to his muscular thighs and straining against his erection. His glasses are thrown carelessly to the side, abandoned on the chest of drawers. 

“Say _please,_ Rey,” he bites out, staring down at her from the foot of the bed. From his vantage point, she’s spread out beneath him, and Rey can’t resist putting on a bit of a show, skimming one hand down the plane of her stomach to draw gentle circles round her clit, the other pinching her nipple.

“Or what?” she asks, faux-innocently, gasping when she finds the perfect rhythm. She can’t resist teasing him, even when she’s so close to getting what she wants. Ben’s nostrils flare and he bends to pick something off the floor, moving too quickly for her to see.

“You’re asking to get spanked again, baby,” he says darkly, advancing on her like a panther stalking its prey and settling heavily on the bed. He pulls her hand away from her centre, ignoring her indignant protest, and when he draws his other hand out from behind his back, his discarded tie sits in a coil in his palm.

It’s deep red silk, the same shade as her lipstick. 

Ben draws her arms above her head with a sharp tug, both of her wrists encased in the circle of his fingers. When she grabs onto the bars of the headboard at his signal he wastes no time before winding the fabric through the slats and securing her arms.

“This okay?”

It’s a momentary glimpse at _her_ Ben, softness lingering at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah,” she breathes, testing the give by rocking side to side, settling into the stretch. “But Daddy, I want to touch--” 

Ben laughs, a low hum of amusement, and his eyes glint in the dim light of their bedroom. 

“I know you do. But it’s better when I do it, right?” When she nods, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trailing his fingers down her neck. “Good girl.”

Rey whines in desperation as the pads of his fingers continue down her body, circling her nipples and pinching at the delicate flesh. He follows the path his fingers weave with his mouth, planting kisses along the line of her jaw and sucking a bruise into her neck, and when he blows cool air over the tender skin she shivers violently.

Ben moves steadily downwards, nudging at the swell of her breast with his nose.

“Such pretty tits, baby,” he murmurs against her. “I didn’t tell you to pay enough attention to them last night.”

“You can fix that now,” she chances, squeaking in pleasure as Ben smirks and captures her nipple in his mouth, one hand coming up to roll the other sensitive bud between his fingers. 

He hums against her, the edges curling into a laugh when she jolts at the hints of his teeth. If she could, she’d thread her hands through the messy waves of his hair—although whether she’d push him away or pull him closer she’s not sure.

Ben looks up at the rattle of her hands against the headboard, that lazy grin lingering. His mouth is red and spit-slick, and she wants it all over her body—but in between her legs especially, something to satiate the burning need that’s consumed her for what feels like hours.

“Feeling a bit frustrated, sweetheart?”

“ _Daddy,_ please,” Rey whimpers, clenching her thighs together in an attempt for friction. “You said you’d…”

She trails off, hoping fervently that he’ll take the hint.

“Said I’d what?” Ben teases. Of course he isn’t going to take it easy on her. 

She isn’t shy, usually—normally, Rey has no qualms about admitting what she wants in bed, telling him _faster_ and _harder_ and _more, please_ as easily as if she were telling him what she wants for dinner. But it’s different like this, somehow. She _wants_ Ben to force it out of her, make her confront her desires head on.

“You said,” she starts, cheeks flaming. “That you were going to ‘pay attention to my pretty little cunt.’ You said you’d eat me out, Daddy. You _promised_.”

His smile turns wolfish, and Ben slides down her body, shouldering her legs apart before he settles at the apex of her thighs. 

“Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart.”

He spreads her open with the pads of his thumbs, the cool air against the heat of her cunt making her tremble, and just _looks_ at her, laid out in front of him like a present. Slick trickles down her thighs to pool underneath her and Ben trails a finger through her wetness. When he pulls it away, holding it up so it’s in her line of view, she can see the way her arousal shines in the dim light of the bedroom.

“You’re _soaking,_ baby,” he points out, thumb sweeping in an arc across her inner thigh. Rey blushes to the roots of her hair. It’s too much, staring at him while he keeps her riding the edge. 

When he leans in and drags his tongue in a hot stripe through her folds she seizes instantly, catapulted to the edge of coming just from the wet press of Ben’s mouth on her clit. After his teasing, it’s all it takes; her thighs clamp together around his head and she _keens_ —loudly—broken whimpers falling from her lips as her back arches, her arms pulling against her restraints.

“Oh God-- _Daddy,_ I need it, _please_ ,” she begs, helpless against his assault as he works her open with his middle finger and she clenches around him. “Gonna come, I can’t—I _need_ —”

She cants her hips, desperate for _more_ , and Ben slings his free arm heavy across her stomach, pinning her to the mattress beneath him. The added pressure makes her squirm and she chokes out a shocked whine from the back of her throat.

“Do you need to?” He asks, low and taunting, sliding a second finger inside her and ignoring her cut-off gasp as she acclimatises to the stretch. “Or do you _want_ to? There’s a difference, Rey.”

She gasps for air, eyes screwed shut, and teeters on the edge. The noises she’s making would be mortifying if she wasn’t so turned on, the wet sound of Ben’s movements drowned out by the way she’s crying out _God, Daddy, please,_ moans pouring out of her helplessly.

“You could, though, couldn’t you?” he asks, pulling away to press a kiss to her inner thigh as he crooks his fingers, the new angle making her tremble. “Come, just from this. But you won’t. Because I told you not to.”

“I’ll be good,” she pants mindlessly, throwing her head back. All her focus is on not coming, determinedly clinging to the tightrope. “I’ll hold it, I promise—but Daddy, I want you to fill me up with your big cock, want you to come in me—I deserve it, Daddy, _please_ —”

Her begging devolves into a drawn-out wail as Ben seals his lips around her clit, the dual assault of his fingers inside her and his tongue laving at the sensitive bundle of nerves making her entire body arch. It’s torture, being so close to release, then cruelly denied, but she wants to _please_ him.

“You want me to fuck you?” he pants, pulling back and stripping off his boxer briefs in one smooth movement. His cock bumps against her thigh, precome smearing against her skin, and Rey bucks against him. “I want to. Gonna split you open, sweetheart, and you’re gonna come on Daddy’s cock like a good girl. Right?”

Her groans of agreement quickly turn into whimpers, and Ben takes pity on her, crawling up her body to kiss her. When Rey tastes herself on his lips she moans into his mouth—her breathing is almost panicked, head spinning from want, and the hard line of him at her hip has her twisting weakly, desperate for friction.

“Here,” Ben’s dark eyes blaze as he forces his fingers past her lips, still wet from her arousal. “Since you like it so much.”

She sucks immediately, hollowing her cheeks, and when she looks up at him from beneath her lashes, Ben’s jaw jumps like he’s trying not to swallow his own tongue.

“That’s my girl,” he mutters. He almost sounds proud.

His erection nudges at the apex of her thighs as he leans closer, levering her legs apart—he bends her left leg almost in half to leave her spread open in front of him, her entire body at his mercy, and Rey whines at the stretch.

“Daddy, _please_ fuck me—want you inside me, I need it so bad—oh fuck, _Ben_ —”

It goes on forever, the first press of his cock inside her, stretching her out until he bottoms out; her mouth opens in a soundless wail, all of the air pushed out of her lungs as tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She’s drawn tight around him--every time he fills her feels like the first time, but she’s so wet that he slides to the hilt easily, slick spilling out from where they’re joined. 

“Jesus,” Ben huffs out, biceps straining as he hovers above her. He doesn’t move, not yet, just lets her adjust as she squirms around his dick, pinned like a butterfly beneath him. “You were made for this, baby—made for me to fuck, to fill you up and wreck you, keep you begging for my cock.”

His hair falls into his eyes as his head drops forward, his breath puffing hot into the crook of her neck. She wants to brush it behind his ear, to score her nails down his back, to pull him into her until they’re impossibly close, but her hands are still tied to the headboard, the silk of Ben’s tie cool against her overheated skin. 

She can’t grab him, but she can get him nearer in other ways, and when she crosses her heels at his back and nudges, Ben sinks even deeper, the new angle making her eyes roll back as the head of his cock bumps against just the right spot inside her. It feels like it’s been months since he’s fucked her, not days, and as he starts to slowly ease backwards, the hot tears smarting at the corner of her eyes escape and slide into her hairline. 

“Daddy,” she whispers, voice hoarse and paper-thin. It feels like she’s been well-fucked already, not strung along on the promise of orgasm until the world goes blurry at the edges, her all-consuming need the only thing she can focus on. “Please, just— _please_ — _”_

Ben smoothes a hand down the outside of her thigh, the tender motion at odds with the hunger in his eyes, and then thrusts into her hard enough to jolt her up the bed, smirking when she shrieks in pleasure.

“You missed this, didn’t you, baby?” he pants, hand slipping between their bodies. His thumb circles over her clit with single-minded precision, like his one goal in life is sending her careening over the edge, and he pushes against her outstretched leg with his shoulder, folding her almost in half. “Such a slut for my cock.”

Rey whimpers helplessly, head thrashing against the pillows as she screws her eyes shut. His pace is relentless, the thick drag of his cock inside her turning her pliant, just something soft and sweet for him to fuck whenever he wants.

“I am,” she cries, her breasts bouncing as he thrusts into her harder, hands flexing against the headboard as she searches for something to grab on to. “I’m your slut, only for you—oh God— _Daddy,_ I’m gonna--”

“You gonna come? Gonna come on my cock and let Daddy fill you up till it’s dripping out of you, let everyone know you’re mine?”

Ben’s voice is just as wrecked as hers, a low growl escaping him from him at the way she stiffens underneath him, her entire body wound up tight. 

“ _Yes_ ,” she pleads desperately, wanting it so badly that she can taste it. “Yes, please, please let me come, I’ve been a good girl—Daddy— _Ben_ , please!”

His thumb on her clit is her answer, his rhythm increasing until she shakes around him and comes with a high-pitched moan, the feeling intensifying as he presses harder, refusing to let up. Her first orgasm has barely receded before she tumbles over the cliff of another, her moan spiralling into a soundless scream as her pleasure builds to dizzying heights; the walls of her cunt flutter around him, making Ben groan into the crook of her neck as he closes his teeth around the meat of her shoulder and _bites._

“Come inside me,” she babbles, hazily, barely coming down, her chest heaving as she trembles through the aftershocks. “Please, Ben, make me yours—”

“God, Rey,” Ben grits out amid thrusts, hand leaving her overstimulated clit to dig into the side of her hip so hard that she knows she’ll bruise. “Love you so much, sweetheart—”

He breaks off into a hoarse grunt as he comes, hips jerking as he fills her, and Rey pulls him into her with her heels at his back, dragging him into the cradle of her hips. He collapses against her, his body a comforting weight, and for a moment they’re still, the room silent as the sweat cools on their skin.

When Ben pulls out of her, his spend drips down her thighs in a rush, wet and filthy, and he skims his way down her body to push the mess back inside her with one thick finger. The brush of him against the sensitive flesh makes her shiver, and as her breathing returns to normal Rey becomes abruptly aware of the strain in her arms, still secured to the headboard.

He notices before she’s able to open her mouth, rearing back to untie her quickly, slowly lowering her arms to her sides before massaging the aches. She’s content to let herself go limp, her mind still clouded as he takes care of her.

While she lays there, his warm hands sweeping up and down her body, Rey relishes in the floaty feeling that comes in the aftermath of orgasm, stretching out her arms and hissing in pleasure at the release of tension in her joints.

“Are you okay?” Ben starts, almost hesitant, his voice a low rumble in his chest. It’s funny, she thinks, how quickly he shifts back to being her gentle boyfriend. “That was… a lot.”

“It was,” she agrees quietly, finally able to card her fingers through the mess of his hair. “A good lot, though.”

He huffs out a laugh, rolling to the side and reaching down to grab at his discarded shirt before motioning for her to spread her legs and wiping between her thighs before tossing the wadded-up bundle in the direction of the laundry bin. 

“It was insanely hot,” he admits, red blooming across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, peeking through his hair. “Maybe I should go away for work more often.”

“What you _should_ do is kiss me,” Rey whispers, blinking up at him wetly, and Ben’s eyes soften before he leans in, brushing his mouth against hers. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” he mouths against her, his breath warm on her cheek. “Are you sore? I’ll go run a bath.”

She takes a moment to just look at him: his hair damp with sweat, cheeks flushed, before shaking her head. When she sits up, he braces a hand at her back instantly, a concerned hum slipping out of him when she winces at the pressure on her bruised ass.

“It’s a good hurt,” she replies beseechingly, eyes earnest. Ben needs to _know_ how important this was for her, having the freedom to let go and know that he’d catch her. That he’d look after her.

“I loved it,” she continues. “I love _you._ Just… just stay with me for a minute.”

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! if you enjoyed please feel free to leave kudos/a comment, and check out my other fics if any of them seem interesting <3
> 
> you can follow me on twitter to keep up with future projects/watch me cry over ben solo [here!](https://twitter.com/bensreys)


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